


WDYW What Ifs and AUs

by The_Writing_Mobster



Series: What Do You Want Aus, One-shots and What Ifs? [1]
Category: Underfell - Fandom, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Smut, What-If
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:41:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29045532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Writing_Mobster/pseuds/The_Writing_Mobster
Summary: A collection of domestic short stories based off of “What Do You Want?” Holiday Specials, one-offs, and smut galore.
Relationships: Frisk & Sans (Undertale)
Series: What Do You Want Aus, One-shots and What Ifs? [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2130891
Kudos: 8





	1. Dreams of Drowning

**Author's Note:**

> Almost all of these one-shots were requested by readers of WDYW. If you want to see more, you can request in the comment section or leave an ask on my Tumblr @the-writing-mobster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What if?" about Sans and Frisk having a semi conversation about the events of Chapter 10 in WDYW. This was suggested by a fan on Tumblr.

_Frisk stood at the edge of a sandy beach. White sand. Pure white sand. Like ivory meeting slate. The sand was fine between her toes and the water breathed sighs of relief as it lapped against the shoreline._

_She took a step into the cold, blue, water that licked against her toes. A second step. The water rose to her ankles… to her knees… to her waist the further she walked._

_Should she turn back?_

_Why would she turn back?_

_The ocean called to her. It wanted her. Who was she to deny its song?_

_Her feet could no longer touch the ground, so she began to swim. Long broad strokes of her arms swept past her ears, pulling her further out into the slate, blue water. The languid water. She would not allow herself to look back. For what would happen? She might turn to salt. The beach her own personal Sodom and Gomorrah. It wasn't hers to go back to anymore. The only thing that awaited was the waves._

_The current grabbed her ankle and dragged her under. The water was black. The light blotted out by ink._ Ink.

_She thrashed as she tried to reach the top. But which way was up? Which way was down? She could only feel the water pressing around her._

_She tried to hold her breath, and her lungs burst for air. First it burns, then the pressure builds up until the pain grows in one's body and one is forced to exhale. Bubbles blistered about Frisk as she was forced to do exactly that. She flailed, but the current was strong, and the abyss stared back with indifference. The burning grows more adamant and one can feel the pain start to pound in one's chest, one's face, one's eyes and ears. One is forced to take another breath, but then one would swallow nothing but water._

_Frisk choked as her lips parted and nostrils flared for oxygen. She kicked, squirmed, flailed, writhed. Anything to free herself; but the ocean was stronger. She began to scream, her voice strangled by water. She swallowed mouthfuls of water, and her lungs were bursting. She needed to choke and breathe…_

_She was sure she would die. As her eyes fluttered open weakly, vision blackening, she saw a grinning skull growing closer. Its pale face was stark against the inky void. Two cracks scarred the opposite hemisphere's of its face, and it grinned with cruel delight._

_Frisk cried out in terror._

_A hand tangled into her hair and she gasped as she was yanked out._

⁂

Frisk jolted awake with a scream, her legs tangled in her sheets, sweat hot on her body. Her chest heaved as she gulped down air as if her life depended on it. 

Tears filled her eyes and she fell back against her pillow. 

She flinched as a knuckle gently rapped her door, brushing her eyes. These nightmares were getting vivid. Why were her nightmares always so _real_ in this Underworld? Was it the magic? 

"Yes? Did I wake you up? I'm sorry," she croaked as she raked a hand through her hair. The door creaked open and she met eyes with the familiar red pin-pricks of Sans. She clenched her jaw and glanced away. 

"No… no, I was up… are you… ok?" He murmured. She shook her head at the question and hugged her knees to her chest. 

"Nightmare… a really… it was so _real."_ Sans grimaced knowingly. He slid into her room and made his way to the edge of the bed. She pulled herself away from him and leaned against the headboard, a frown on her face. 

"What was—"

"—Drowning. It's always drowning… I wonder why…" Sans's grimace grew a bit more guilty and he looked away. 

"Ah… my fault." She hummed and peeled the sheets away from her. They were growing a bit to suffocating. 

"Don't give yourself so much credit," she murmured. He chuckled softly at her jab at him. 

"Well… do you want some water?" He asked. She shot him an unamused frown and he grinned. 

"Probably not. Maybe some tea?" She shook her head and laid back down. 

"Why?" She whispered. He furrowed his brow at her. Did she always have to question him? 

"Why what?" He asked as he stood back up. She looked back up at him. Those brown eyes. They made him weak. He'd do anything for her, and all she had to do was bat her eyelashes at him. She turned him into a true idiot. 

"I have a feeling you wouldn't treat anyone else this way." He shrugged and came to stand at the window. 

"That's not true. Papyru—"

"—Papyrus doesn't count, he's your brother." The two laughed quietly. Wasn't that the truth? He wasn't about to argue with her. She made him… _weak._

"I guess you're right." She drew herself out of bed and came to stand beside him. They watched the snowfall together and Frisk felt that familiar spark in her soul. Why was it always at the ungodly hours of the morning or night when their true colors for each other shined through? 

"You turn me into such a dumbass," he grunted. She bit her lip to stifle a laugh. 

"Oh really? Elaborate," she said as she hesitantly toyed with the hem of his shirt sleeve. He gave her a gentle grin, but kept his eyes trained on the falling drifts of snow. 

"I was so convinced that… I wasn't going to let you trick me." She scoffed, her fingers tangling themselves in his shirt. He stilled at her touch. 

"I wasn't trying to trick anyone…" she breathed. He tilted his head and finally looked back at her. They stayed like that for a moment before he leaned down and cupped her face. Frisk sighed into him as he kissed her. Her soul flickered with warmth. This was where she belonged, this was where she felt content. Despite all their baggage, despite their history… 

He pulled away all too soon and she leaned against his chest, tears shimmering on her cheeks. 

"I think that's why it worked." 

  
  
  



	2. Flirting at IKEA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One-shot based on the scenario of Sans and Frisk buying furniture together. This was suggested on Tumblr.

"We've been in here for _hours—"_

"—THIS ROOM IS BEAUTIFUL!" Sans sighed and watched as Frisk took a picture of the minimalist "city-living" kitchen display. They had really only been there for an hour and a half, but they had come to get a bed… _not_ to take pictures of the display rooms. However, he had to admit; seeing Frisk, a woman who took herself very seriously, act like a child at a toy store was _quite_ endearing. 

"Could you see us in an apartment like this?" She breathed as she stepped inside the display to look at all the pretty decorations. Sans chuckled quietly and crossed his arms. 

"I could see myself uh… eating those Swedish meatballs," he grunted. She shot him a look and he snickered boyishly. 

“ _Oh tais-toi, connard,”_ she teased with a playful snicker. Sans chuckled and wrapped his arms around her. Frisk laughed as he nibbled on her neck. 

“I’m _hungry,_ and you’re over here showing me display kitchens. Not helping, sweetheart,” he murmured into her ear. That familiar tingle ran down her spine and she smirked. 

“Be good. We’re in public,” she whispered coyly as she shrugged him off and continued down the yellow marked path. He watched her with a growing grin and shoved his hands in his pockets with a smug air about him. He glanced over to see an older couple shooting them dirty looks, which he returned with a nonchalant wink. The old woman’s jaw gaped and Sans quickly turned away and chased after his fiancé. 

“I’m surprised Papyrus isn’t here, what did you say he was holed up doing again?” Asked Frisk as she ran her hand along a dark wooden armoire. Sans shrugged absentmindedly and glanced down her body as she walked in front of him. Sometimes he was taken aback by how surreal it was to be with a woman like her. 

“He had to go to the bank to deal with…uh… a fraud charge on his card. It got locked cause he tried to buy some candles from Bath and Bodyworks. Apparently, bath and Bodyworks is a—tch—a hotspot, and he’s such a fuckin impulse buyer. The moment he discovered online shopping, I swear to God.” His words dissolved into a fit of boyish chuckles at the memory. Frisk joined in his infectious laughter. 

“Oh my God. Oh my God! I remember!” She had been shopping with Alice, Bonnie, and Charlotte when Papyrus had called her in a fit of rage about never shopping at _“that deplorable perfumery”_ ever again. They both giggled together as they walked through the endless maze of home decor. 

Finally, they arrived in the bed and bedroom section of the gigantic furniture store and Sans sighed with relief. 

“Think I can actually sit down for a change?” He teased. Frisk rolled her eyes and scanned the room. They needed a king. As... nice... as it was being pressed together in a _full_ , she knew having space would be nice, especially since they both took up a lot of space, Sans from the sheer size and Frisk by spreading her limbs to each corner of the mattress. She knew the longer they lived together, the more being tangled in each other’s arms would get claustrophobic. Claustrophobia would cause tension, and tension would cause fights…and Frisk never wanted that to happen. Not after everything they’d been through together. No, a couple needed their moments of space. A bed was the perfect place to have it. 

Frisk glanced over her shoulder when she felt Sans’s eyes on her and she pursed her lips to hide a smile. Besides, with the way their sex life was going… there would be plenty of time to be entangled together. Her soul flickered at the notion and she let out a heavy breath. _A bigger bed has so many more possibilities…_

“Oh, look at this one,” she hummed as she gestured to a bed with a solid, black headboard. Sans glanced down and read the name. _KVALFJORD._ He grumbled to himself something along the lines of _crazy-Swedish-bullshit_ before shrugging and pushing his hand into the mattress. 

“It’s nice, that’s for sure,” he murmured thoughtfully. Frisk grinned and checked the price. She grimaced at the _four hundred dollar_ price tag but Sans shrugged it off. Four hundred dollars was nothing to him or his brother. She was still surprised at how well they had transitioned into the American workforce after years of being military operatives for Asgore. Granted it wasn’t standard work. Frisk had never been an ambassador before in her life, but the position was proving rather rewarding, and Sans worked alongside her as her own personal bodyguard. She smiled softly and spared him a small glance. 

“Hey… I love you,” she hummed, toying with the hem of his sleeve. Sans glanced back at her and his grin widened. He quirked a brow teasingly and ruffled her hair. 

“I love you too, babe,” he said. Frisk smiled as he rolled himself onto the bed and rested his hands behind his neck in thoughtful surrender. It held his weight pretty well, considering the sheer size difference between humans and monsters. 

“Is it good?” She asked. He hummed contentedly. Granted, with how easily Sans could become comfortable, she was sure anything would work for him and he would have little to no complaints. She gasped as he pulled her onto the bed and she giggled. The two laid side by side and Frisk splayed her arms out. Sans grunted as her hand slapped his face and they snickered. 

“It’s a king for a reason, kid,” he joked and she chuckled and turned over onto her stomach. Sans watched as she propped her head up on her hands and they smiled affectionately at each other. 

“I love Ikea way too much.” Sans burst out laughing at her words and she grinned. He sighed lazily and pulled himself up to sit against the headboard. 

“Is this the one?” She asked. He glanced around the large industrial cavern at all the other options. None of them really fit his taste. This one was more modern, and -he shuffled his weight- not squeaky, unlike his old bed. 

“What do you think?” He asked as he got up to lift the mattress and check out the support beams. Frisk slid off and came to stand by his side. 

“Think it could handle us?” She whispered with a suggestive twinkle in her eye. Sans smirked and glanced down at her. 

“Well there’s only one way to try that out and… as much as that idea entices me, I don’t think that would be very appropriate. I mean you’re the one who brought up the fact we’re in public,” he murmured back. She leaned against the bed and gave it a hard shake. Sans laughed at the move. It held firm and she shrugged and looked back up at him. 

“I think it works. As long as we build it correctly.” Sans groaned at the reminder that yes, they would have to build it themselves. 

“Oh fuck me,” he groaned. Frisk stifled a smirk and gave him an innocent smile.

“I will once we build it,” she purred. He shook his head in amusement and wrapped an arm around her waist. 

“What’s gotten into you? Actin all… _frisky_ ,” he uttered as he kissed her forehead. She giggled and ran her hand down his chest. He sucked in at the move, pulling her closer to him. 

“It’s your fault,” she hummed with mock disapproval. He scoffed with baffled amusement and grabbed her hand when she reached his pelvis. His entire body was burning with her touch. 

“If you keep this up, I don’t think I’ll be able to wait until _after_ the damn thing gets built,” he growled. She bit her lip and pulled away from him. Sans watched her walk around the bed and ran his tongue along the edges of his fangs. She always knew how to get to him. 

“So do you like this one?” She asked, pretending that nothing had happened. He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at her. 

“I do.” She smiled and took a picture of the tag for when they would need it in the warehouse. 

“Perfect. I do too. Now! Let’s look at the mattresses,” she chirped as she skipped down the aisle. Sans growled with a titillating lust and followed after her. _This woman._

When he came to her side, she reached for his hand, which he readily surrendered and she smiled with contentment. Her hand was so small compared to his, but in it, she felt safe. No one could touch her as long as he was by her side. That knowledge was enough to put her ever-alert mind at ease and make her soul hum. 

They spent another hour or so trying to find the right mattress, sparing each other flirtatious looks along the way. Every so often Frisk or Sans would notice other people staring at them out of morbid curiosity. After all, Sans was a _reaper_ who stood at six feet and six inches tall, and she was just five foot six. However, she was happy to find no one being blatantly rude to them. Most of the employees were helpful, even if they did tremble a bit at the sight of Sans. She had to remind herself how _she_ felt the first time they had met. That was of course, under very different circumstances. 

When they finally made it past the furniture department, and into the home decor, Sans had to corral Frisk away from all the shiny decorations. It was like herding cats. They didn’t exactly need a new salad bowl. Or new cups or dishes. _Or fake potted plants._

Frisk did end up piling a bunch of pretty throw pillows and abstract art prints into the cart, along with the necessary bed sheets and comforter that would fit onto the bed. The duvet itself looked like its own abstract art piece, with mottled black, white, and blue colors. Truly, Sans wasn’t much of a designer, so he let Frisk pick out anything. He was happy with practically all of her choices... well, except for when she expressed interest in a flowery, grandmotherly type duvet. That's where he drew the line.

After everything was picked out, they spent the last hour in the warehouse finding, retrieving, and paying for the bed and all of their items. Sans followed through with his wish of grabbing some of the famous Swedish meatballs. 

Once they were all finished and ready to go, one of the employees cautiously approached them. 

"Do you need any help loading…?" asked the employee. Sans glanced down at Frisk and grinned as smoke began to pour out of his eye sockets and circled the two and their boxes. 

"Nah," he said as the employee looked on with a mixture of terror and strange fascination as the mist covered them. As the red smoke cleared, the employee gasped and stumbled back. They were gone! 

⁂

"Was that really necessary?" Frisk asked with a breathless laugh. Sans rose a brow as the boxes thumped to the ground around them. 

"Probably not, but you know what is?" He growled as he snaked an arm around her waist. She quirked a brow and shot him a challenging smirk. 

"What?" She breathed. He clutched her chin in his large hand and leaned her head back as he kissed her. She let out a heavy breath and wrapped her arms around his neck. He nibbled her lips and heat shot down her stomach. Sans pressed her against the wall as his hunger for her overcame him. She hummed as she pulled his head away from her and bit her lip with a sultry gleam in her eyes. 

"Not yet…" she sing-songed. He growled under his breath and she tapped his fangs. She smiled and slid out from under him. He snatched her hand and pulled her back to face him. 

  
"Just one more kiss?" He purred. She smiled sweetly and cupped his face with her hands. They shared a gentle kiss before she patted his cheekbones and pranced away to gather the heavy boxes. _We're gonna have a_ great _time tonight._


End file.
